


Witness to a Shooting Star: A Spirit's Fall Side-Story

by Batsutousai



Series: The Blood Toll Saga [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Dubious Morality, F/M, POV Original Character, Vampire Edward Elric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: Side story: The Xerxesians discuss what to do about Ed after he reveals the truth of his curse to them.(Takes place between chapters two and three of Spirit's Fall.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This scene occurs while Ed's making up with Al, because it occurred to me, while I was failing to write Ed returning to the camp after his chat with Al, that I should really cover the Xerxesians' reasons for why they're willing to help Ed, without Ed's own issues clouding everything.  
> This is written from Sanaz's (the female leader) PoV. Mostly because she was the one who started this whole thing.
> 
> You can also read this at [Fanfiction.Net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12216212/1/), [tumblr](http://batshieroglyphics.tumblr.com/post/152635181704), or [LiveJournal](http://batsutousai.livejournal.com/371327.html).

Sometimes, Sanaz liked to remember the first time she'd seen Ed, his eyes wide with wonder, his empty sleeve blowing slightly in the wind as he stared over their tribe like he'd never seen so many people before. He'd looked so _young_ , then, so untroubled by the shadows she too-often noticed in his eyes at odd moments. 

Seven seasons in, and she'd finally learnt exactly what hid in those shadows, and her heart felt torn to shreds. She and Mahdi had, over the months, discussed the possibility of them being because of a personal loss – Ed had admitted, at one point, that his mother was dead, and he'd always avoided any questions about his missing brother, while his missing limbs were all too obvious, with no stories as to how it had happened ever being offered – and how best to handle such. When Banu had mentioned Ed's issues with his father, that Van had left without a word or show of compassion toward his sons, they all thought they'd maybe found the truth behind those shadows, that they would heal on their own if Ed was given sufficient time to forgive his father. 

They also discussed those times when Ed's little oddities caught someone's attention. Like how often he was spotted moving around late into the night, yet didn't seem tired the next day. Or how he'd sometimes go a whole day without anyone seeing him eat anything, especially when they were moving through the desert. Or how he'd come back from scavenging for food with the other children, and he'd be the only one not covered in scratches from whatever plant life they'd fought with. 

Such little things; how were they to know how truly terrible the truth behind them would be? Immortality and killing for survival. 

Akbar and the other hunters, when they'd reported their meeting with Ed, had all thought Ed was afraid of _them_ , even those who'd believed he was possessed by a daeva (though they all knew daevas feared nothing). Which had struck everyone as a little odd, mostly because Ed had always acted so _fearless_ , even going so far as to lead a bear away from Shahin, Azar, and Pari, without any apparent concern for his own wellbeing. 

But, watching Ed throughout their little meeting, observing the way he'd tried so hard to get them to kick him out, struggled to explain why _he_ was a danger to _them_ , Sanaz knew the real truth: It wasn't that Ed was afraid _of_ them, he was afraid _for_ them. He was terrified of himself, of the harm he had done in the past, and believed he would do again in future. 

Nothing had changed from when they'd first met him: Ed Hohenheim was a lost child in desperate need of someone who cared standing at his shoulder, and Sanaz had ever had the need to help such people, no matter how great the danger. (It was a habit that Mahdi and their children had often complained about, but bore with, if not _fondness_ , at least a sufficient degree of tolerance.) 

She wanted to be able to, one day, watch Ed leave them with his back straight with self-assurance, not bowed under the weight of self-hatred and terror. She wanted to see him smiling, laughing like he had when he'd discovered Mahdi had practised alkahestry when they were much younger; not watching the exits like he was waiting for the chance to flee, skin too-pale and expression twisted with panic as he remembered horrors she had no reference for. 

(What sort of being would _do_ this to a child? What pleasure was there to be found in watching someone slowly fall to pieces as they learnt only to hate themselves for the things they had no control over?) 

The only way she could think of to give Ed the self-confidence he so obviously needed, was by helping him to learn how to control his curse. And, from Akbar's report, it was clear Ed _did_ have control, though he didn't seem to realise it himself. So Sanaz had offered that suggestion, had been pleased when Mahdi backed her, and wasn't, honestly, surprised when Ed ran; it was already rather clear that, when he wasn't able to scare someone away, fleeing was his next step. 

(Sanaz was actually rather surprised that he'd stayed as long as he had.) 

Into the silence that fell after Ed's departure, Mahdi grunted and shoved himself to his feet. "Perhaps, now, we might discuss this properly, my love," he said, tone rather obviously resigned. 

"An excellent idea," Sanaz agreed, leaning forward to pick up the journal Ed had said he'd intended to leave for them. "And perhaps Banu would enjoy a new book to read." 

Mahdi grunted again, noncommittal, and ducked to grab Ed's forgotten bag; likely, he intended to remove it to their tent, so Ed couldn't sneak into the camp again without them being aware of his presence, no matter how late he planned to do so this time. 

Behnam cleared his throat as Sanaz stood. "I know I was only here because you needed me if Ed had trouble translating something into our language, but I'd like to be a part of that discussion, if I could." He looked up, toward Mahdi, and firmly added, "Ed is my friend, my _brother_."

"Oh?" Mahdi returned, raising both eyebrows. "You're claiming right of blood, then?" 

Behnam swallowed and looked toward Sanaz, instead, his gaze turned pleading, because it was clear not a one of them could claim that right, not as many generations sat between them and Ed, not if his father had been born a slave, when all of their ancestors had been born freemen. " _Please_."

And she knew, she understood exactly what he wasn't saying, because he and Ed had formed a fast friendship, trying to learn how to understand each other. Of all of them, Behnam likely knew Ed the best; if anyone had the right to speak for Ed when he, himself, would not, it would be Behnam. 

And, yet, Sanaz believed that Ed had done sufficient speaking, and it was time she and Mahdi spoke frankly with one another, which was always difficult when the object of their discussion – or one hoping to speak for that person – was listening in. Later, when Ed returned again, Behnam would likely serve useful, because she didn't expect Ed would so easily agree to any decision that didn't see him banished from their people; they would need all the help they could get convincing him to stay. 

So she sighed and shook her head. "Later," she promised, as Benham's expression fell. 

Mahdi grunted, then turned and left the tent. 

Sanaz offered Behnam a quick, reassuring smile, then hurried after her husband, catching him up as he entered their tent. It was empty, had been since Jalal finally moved out upon reaching his majority, and while it had been tens of seasons since then, the silence still bothered Sanaz some days. Now, for example, watching Mahdi's tense expression as he dropped Ed's bag next to the central support of their tent, not saying a word. 

Sanaz squeezed her fingers around the journal she'd picked up and sighed. "You wouldn't turn a child out," she said, because that was one thing she was certain of, in this. 

"I do not believe Ed is a child," Mahdi returned, rubbing at his eyes in that way he often did when his head pained him. "He has suffered as much as you or I. More, perhaps," he added quietly, a well of grief in his voice. 

Sanaz frowned down at the book in her hands. "Yes," she offered quietly. "He's suffered, lost his whole family, his very _humanity_ ; we can't force him to lose _us_ as well, Mahdi. That is...too cruel. Child or adult, he's done nothing to deserve us disowning him." 

"He would disagree with you." 

" _Mahdi_ ," Sanaz complained. 

Her husband peeked out at her, a helpless sort of humour in his eyes. 

Sanaz was reminded, in that moment, of how hard Mahdi had fought against taking the position of leader of their tribe, because he'd studied and performed alkahestry when they were younger, which went against every one of their laws. He'd sworn that he didn't have the right to lead anyone, had been surprised, back when he'd returned to the tribe after his years away, that he'd been welcomed back at all. Of the two of them, he likely knew best how Ed felt. 

The former leader, Dilshad, had been the one to finally convince Mahdi to take the position, and Sanaz found herself repeating his words: "It is because you believe that you do not deserve such honour, that you should accept it, because only those who truly understand the evils of the world can steer others safely away from them." 

Mahdi sighed. "Yes, I remember." He looked away from her, toward the far wall of the tent. "But Ed's curse is not alkahestry, and it cannot be given up, besides." 

"You wouldn't cast him out, though," Sanaz insisted. 

Mahdi shook his head and quietly said, "Seven seasons he's been with us, and everything I've heard about this first altercation suggests we are in no more danger now, than we were before he came. Yet–" he turned to Sanaz at last, uncertainty in his eyes "–what you or I believe has little bearing on how others will react to his curse. It would be cruel to talk him into staying, only for others to try to spook him away out of fear." 

Sanaz frowned and shook her head. "I don't think they will," she insisted. "I can't think of a single person who doesn't like Ed, at the least." She let out a slightly helpless laugh, remembering how worried about Ed one of the hunters had been. "Even Rahman, for all his fear of the daevas, he didn't seem to hate Ed. Feared _for_ him, if anything." 

Mahdi hummed and looked down, his brows drawn tight together. "Daevas," he murmured, just barely audible. "Cursed by a daeva to either avoid human contact and starve, or hurt those he most loves. And is it not Ahuramazda's will that we fight against the daevas in any way we might? Is it not clear Ed is a good soul, deserving of whatever help we might offer?" 

Sanaz lifted the book to hide her smile, grateful that Mahdi had no intention in casting Ed away, was already trying to find a way to spin things so the more religious of their tribe wouldn't fight the decision. Not that she believed any of them would have; Ed was well-liked among their people, despite his oddities, and she honestly doubted even the current suggestion of daeva involvement in the altercation in the woods had changed that. 

And then Mahdi turned to her, his expression tight. "You intend donors," he said, his tone flat, proving he hadn't just realised her idea in Ed's tent. 

She lowered the book, revealing her unbending expression. "Of course. He needs to learn control with humans, so it is best to be those he cares most for, so he is more likely to fight his hunger and not hurt them." 

"Willing. _Aware of the danger_ ," Mahdi shot back. 

Sanaz raised her chin slightly. "I am," she insisted. 

His steady frown said he'd already known that would be her response. "And Behnam, doubtless," he muttered, turning a scowl on the tent wall just over Sanaz's shoulder. 

"And Banu and Minoo," Sanaz pointed out, because Ed spent plenty of time with their daughter and granddaughter, discussing alchemy and history and whatever had caught one of their fancy that day. 

Mahdi huffed, but didn't argue. Didn't respond at all, even; Sanaz suspected he was biting back his overprotective urges. 

Sanaz sighed and stepped forward, reaching out toward him and almost immediately finding her hand met by his, their fingers slotting easily together. "My love," she murmured, catching his troubled gaze, "Ed would never hurt any of us, whatever he may believe of himself. We must prove to him, _all of us_ , that he isn't the monster he fears himself to be, or he will destroy himself; is that a future you can live with?" 

Mahdi closed his eyes and drew her into his arms, wrapping her tight in his familiar embrace. "You know it isn't," he replied so quietly, she wouldn't have heard him if they'd still stood apart. 

Sanaz pulled back enough to meet his eyes, when Mahdi opened them, and firmly said, "Then _trust him_ , as you trust me, so he might one day trust himself." 

Mahdi smiled, though it was a bit crooked. "You realise you're a thoroughly impossible woman." 

Sanaz smiled at him. "You realise you're stuck with me," she returned. 

"Regretfully." 

She swatted him and pulled away, holding up the book. "I should find our daughter." 

He sighed and nodded. "And I should find Minoo. Would you speak with Behnam, assure him I haven't been possessed of cruelty overnight?" 

Sanaz coughed to cover a laugh, but Mahdi's expression said he wasn't fooled for a moment. "Of course, my love. You were simply possessed of exhaustion." 

Mahdi grunted and moved toward the entrance of their tent. "The first thing I'll teach that young man is how to keep sane hours," he muttered as he left, very obviously speaking of Ed. 

Sanaz laughed a bit helplessly, plenty tired herself from the late-night awakening; with luck, Ed would come back at a more sane time for their old bones. And, if not, well... 

It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to speak for her husband to keep him from scaring a member of their tribe away.

.


End file.
